


Of gay jokes and the overcompensation that implies

by Beelzebub_fuckers



Category: Clone High
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Confused sexuality, F/M, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Internalized Homophobia, Masturbation, Masturbation in Shower, No Plot/Plotless, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Pegging, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Questioning, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Spanking, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:13:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27001018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beelzebub_fuckers/pseuds/Beelzebub_fuckers
Summary: Hey remember when Kennedy was willing to question his whole sexuality over Joan in a mustache? I can't be the first one to think of this. In other words, Kennedy gets his brains pegged out.
Relationships: JFK/Joan of Arc (Clone High)
Comments: 23
Kudos: 242





	Of gay jokes and the overcompensation that implies

**Author's Note:**

> Not me writing porn again! Oh yeah, I'm doing this. Welcome, friends and freaks. Let us begin the story. The working title is "Of gay jokes and the overcompensation that implies" but I seriously considered calling it "JFK: Peg Piggy." I'm an asshole. Enjoy!

John Fitzgerald Kennedy got into a lot of ridiculous situations. Mostly attributed to his lack of impulse control and his high sex drive. He never imagined that his sex drive would lead him so astray.

Yet when John D’arc joined the basketball team he found himself lead astray _time_ and _time_ again. Often Kennedy found himself walking away in an awkward gait, trying to conceal his growing erection. In the locker room he found his eyes lingering on the soft alabaster skin of his teammate. He caught himself more often than not wishing that his teammate would actually get undressed. Reveal a little bit more of that creamy skin he was quickly becoming obsessed with. Needless to say, Kennedy was a little more than relieved when John revealed himself to be Joan of Arc. He was actually a dame! Kennedy’s sexuality was intact. No problems at all.

Or was there?

See, Kennedy couldn’t really _forget_ about his previous sexuality crisis. He was willing to try _anything_ if it meant doing it with John D’arc. To his great humiliation, he’d even _told_ Joan as much. He couldn’t forget about the lingering glances in the men’s locker room. Or the fantasies of John’s mustache brushing against his upper lip as they kissed. Or the desperate, sticky nights of jerking off to the thought of John. A man. Or what he thought was a man. He couldn’t forget how appealing those fantasies and desires were. And he couldn’t go back and pretend he hadn’t seriously considered being with a man sexually.

But Kennedy didn’t really know how to proceed from that point. Joan went back to being a gloomy goth girl, moping always two steps behind Abe. Wearing cargo pants, thick leather boots, purple lipstick. Every time Kennedy saw her, flutters of confusion beat against his ribs. He was attracted to Joan, no doubt. She was number fifteen on his list of 150 women to bang that year. Pretty high up, all things considering. But now instead of imagining himself spreading her thighs open to drink the hot liquid sex that spilled down her thighs, he imagined himself knelt on a bed, crying in ecstasy while Joan pounded him from behind.

God, he had it bad.

“—Earth to Kennedy! God, move! I have to get into my locker.”

Kennedy startled to find Joan yelling in his face. Seems she’d been trying to get his attention for quite some time. He leapt aside, wearing a cocky grin. “Sorry! I er, uh, was preoccupied looking at your sweet ass, babe.”

Joan rolled her eyes. “You mean my ‘milky thighs?’”

Kennedy felt a wave of anxiety and embarrassment roll smoothly up his spine. He refused to look shaken, though. “Haha, yeah. I tell ya, your ass is er, thicker than a shake at The Grassy Knoll!”

Joan gave him a scathing look, causing Kennedy to raise his arms defensively. “Me? That’s rich. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’ve got the biggest ass in the school. At least proportionate to body size. You could bounce pennies off of that thing.”

At this Kennedy couldn’t suppress the blood that rushed to his face. Now he was stuttering for an entirely different reason. “Er, uh…. Huh.”

“You’ve slept with every hussy at school. You’re probably looking to get in my pants. Now that you’ve swept all the easy targets off of their feet, I’m next.” She leaned in, eyes gleaming with menace and something else. Lust. He’d recognize it anywhere. “If you want to get with me, you’re going to have to get a little _unconventional._ Are you still up for anything, Kennedy?”

He should say no. He should say no for sure. He didn’t even know what she wanted yet. But come on. The chance to sleep with Joan of Arc? That had to be once in a lifetime. One of the only things he remembered learning about the original Joan was that she died a virgin. This was huge.

“I think you’ll find I’m very flexible.” Kennedy boasted.

She smirked, causing a thrill to tingle under his skin. “You’ll need to be.”

Kennedy swallowed. “Okay. My place at eight!” He said, trying to keep his sunny demeanor. He rushed away, adjusting his pants as subtly as he could. It was going to be a long day at school.

* * *

It was an agonizing wait. Kennedy slammed through the front door afterschool, running upstairs while ignoring his foster dad asking how his day was, locking himself in the bathroom with one hand while the other wrenched his zipper down. Shoving his boxers and pants down to mid-thigh, he hissed in relief. He’d been chafing against his pants all day. His dick throbbed angrily at him. He briefly contemplated whether he should jerk off or not. After all, he was having sex with a smoking broad later. Maybe he should save it for later? But his impulse control was non-existent and with the insistent calls of his manhood he quickly made his decision.

Kennedy tumbled into the shower, turning on the water and the radio to drown out the noise he was about to be making. There was a bottle of conditioner that had long been empty on the caddy. Its contents replaced with lube. He lathered his hand in the slippery substance and tugged it down the length of his dick, groaning as he did so.

His jaw clenched and his chest tightened as he stroked himself with quick, harsh jerking motions. Low, guttural noises caught in his throat and came out as high whines. He leaned back against the shower wall for support. His skin slid against the slick tile. His racing heart made him hot, and he felt overwhelmed in the steaming water of the shower. Kennedy grit his teeth. The low coil of pressure was building in his pelvis. He was climbing the peak. His hips jerked uncontrollably as he got closer and closer to release. His fist tightened around the head and twisted. He gasped as he came onto the shower curtain.

His knees shook dangerously under him, and Kennedy allowed himself to slide down to sit on the floor. His head soaked instantly underneath the direct spray of the shower. Hot water ran down his back. He panted, trying to catch his breath. He hadn’t taken his time to really enjoy any of it, but at least he was satiated for the time being. It didn’t really matter anyway. Joan would be over later, and if her blatant flirting and sexual suggestion held any promise, he was definitely going to be satisfied later. He swallowed at the thought. His dick stirred briefly.

Enough of that. He was going to wring himself out before she ever got to his house if he continued down the path he was currently on. Instead he grabbed the shampoo and the bottle that _actually_ contained conditioner and washed his hair. The soap lathered smoothly in his hair and melted away under the rinse. The conditioner smelled like coconut oil and apricots, an unusually sweet smell for most of the men at school, but hey, having gay dads taught you a _lot_ about hair care and Kennedy wouldn’t be caught dead with dollar store conditioner in his hair. Quickly washing off the lube and the sweat of the day, Kennedy finished his shower. He looked at the clock on the radio, which was still playing loud music. Only 4:38. He groaned. This night was going to last forever.

Kennedy grabbed a towel to wrap around his waist. Just as he was turning off the radio, he heard his dad calling for him. “Baby! It’s dinnertime! Come down when you’re dressed.”

“Coming, dad!” He shouted down the stairs. Pulling on a loose t shirt and a pair of boxers, he looked at the clock again. Now all there was left to do was wait.

* * *

Kennedy didn’t do any homework while he waited. Nor edit his music or watch any TV. The hours passed painstakingly. He did a quick cleaning of his room. Shoving any stray socks into the hamper, making his bed, and spraying air freshener liberally. It was 7:49. Kennedy was buzzing with energy. He laid out condoms and lube. As an afterthought he put some water bottles on his bedside table. Hydration is important after sex. What else should he do? Shit, she was going to be on his doorstep soon. He wrung his hands nervously. No. It was fine. It was perfect. He’d banged thirty chicks in this room. It was good enough for one more.

A melodic chime rang up the stairs. The doorbell.

He stumbled down the stairs, still in his shirt and boxers. Nearly tripping over the last step in his haste, he wrenched the door open far too quickly, coming face to face with Joan. She didn’t look any different than she usually did. Red hair cropped at the jawline, black shirt that hugged her gorgeous body, cargo pants, horrible posture. A small backpack was slung over her left shoulder. Not the same bag that she took to school, Kennedy noted. She looked him up and down, raking her eyes over his casual state of dress, raising a discerning eyebrow.

Without saying a word, she took his hand and lead him upstairs. Kennedy’s foster father gave them a look over his shoulder before settling back into his husband’s arms with a knowing smile. They’d be fine. He’d checked John’s condom stash recently.

Kennedy felt heat pulsing through his body. Being manhandled and yanked around was doing _something_ to him. She opened the door to his bedroom and practically threw him inside, walking in after him with all the confidence that Kennedy had come to expect from her. The door shut quietly, but the _click_ of the lock sliding into place had Kennedy vibrating with anticipation.

“So, uh. You gonna take your clothes off, babe?”

She crowded up into his space. Her lips were so close, he could feel the heat of her breath and body. His pants got tighter in an instant. “Shut up.” She whispered. “Get on the bed.”

Something about the way she commanded him had him scrambling to obey her. He crawled onto his bed and sat up against the headboard, crossing his legs casually and folding his hands in his lap while he waited politely for whatever she wanted next.

At this Joan seemed to soften. Smiling at him in a way that made his stomach flutter. She brought her hands up to catch at the hem of her shirt. Pulling up and away her shirt. Plain black sports bra. Nothing impressive compared to the intricate soft lace and ribbons he’d seen in his day. But it was so Joan. He gave her a shy smile.

Her belt buckle clinked in the quiet of the room as she undid it. Unbuttoning her pants. Kennedy’s eyes were glued to every movement of her hands. Revealing more and more skin to him. Her panties were more like what he was used to. Another black garment with a scalloped lace edge and a small bow in the front. Looked like the average pair of panties you could find at Target. She kicked off her pants where they’d pooled at her feet, leaving them discarded on the floor. She stepped away from them, but not towards him. She went to retrieve the backpack that he’d nearly forgotten about.

Joan set it on the bed at his feet. She met his eyes, looking quite serious. “You told me you’re open for anything. Is that still true?”

God, was it? Kennedy’s mouth watered as he looked at the backpack, his heart racing as he wondered what the hell it could possibly contain. Maybe she was one of the kinky broads. Had some paddle she wanted him to use on her. Or nipple clamps. He was not unfamiliar with some girls who liked a little pain in their play. But Joan was being so serious about it. What if it was something he’d never done before?

“Hell yeah. Bring it on.” He said. Fuck it. Caution was not in the Kennedy name.

Her face didn’t change any. Expressing no approval or other any other reaction to his answer. She quietly zipped open the bag, pulling out the contents of the bag.

Kennedy looked at what it was, confused. It was some kind of belt. A harness. With a rubber fixture sewn in at the front. He watched while Joan slipped her legs in, tightening the straps around her hips and thighs. There was lace at the edges, decorating the otherwise thick, industrial garment. She wore it well. But evidently that wasn’t all. He didn’t get to enjoy it too long before she pulled another thing out of the bag.

Oh. So she liked toys. That’s cool. He had slept with babes like that before. She brought it down to level with her pelvis and began pushing the base against her front. Pulling the rubber ring around the base.

_Oh._

When she was done, it hung off of her body, attached to her front by the belt. Joan. Had a dick.

“Wow.” Kennedy said before he could stop himself.

Joan wasn’t even phased. “You’d do it with John D’arc. Would you with Joan of Arc?”

God, Kennedy wished he could say no. This was gay, right? Taking it from behind like some kind of sleezy broad. That was definitely a gay thing to do. But was it really? This was a chick giving it to him. And it wasn’t a real phallus. God, she was right. He _would_ have done this with John D’arc. He would have taken a real man from behind, and that is definitely, inexcusably gay. His mouth was watering again, at with his mouth hung open in shock, it trickled down his chin. He was _drooling_ like some kind of idiot. Come on, Kennedy. This is the chance of a lifetime. Sleeping with Joan of Arc.

“I, uh. Yeah. Yeah.” He said, almost surprised with his own answer. “How do we, er. Do this?”

She also seemed a little surprised, but she grinned, a dark sexual thing that made his cock salute in approval. “Let me take care of you.”

“Good uh, good idea.” He agreed.

That’s when Joan took hold of his ankles, yanking him down to the edge of the bed where she stood. He yelped in surprise. Her eyes burned him, drinking in his body like cheap-nonalcoholic beer. He couldn’t decide where to put his eyes. They flickered between her lusty expression, her breasts pressing against the fabric of her sports bra, and the chipping black polish that adorned her nails. All of her was beautiful. Confident and radiant and totally domineering. Man, Abe had been rejecting _this_ all year long? What a fucking moron.

He shivered when her hands slipped under the hem of his threadbare t-shirt. His stomach clenched, trying to escape the cold fingers probing at his hard muscles. Her wrists pushed his shirt up his chest as she explored, dipping her fingers into his navel and tracing the lines of his ribs. Kennedy’s breath hitched when she suddenly took a nipple between two fingers, twisting it. Not hard, but enough to make him arch his back and gasp.

While her one hand tortured his nipple, the other came to the unoccupied pec and cupped it whole. Pressing her palm against the flesh and _squeezing._ JFK’s eyes flew open wide. Well, damn. No girl had done that before. She continued kneading the muscle, tilting her head with a smirk. “Nice tits, Kennedy.”

Fuck. His cock strained against his boxers. “Er, uh, thank you.”

She let go of his tit and grabbed the nipple. Both were firmly clenched between her thumbs and forefingers. Joan twisted them again, this time hard enough to hurt. Kennedy had the good sense to be mortified by the high keening noise that ripped itself from his throat.

He was ready for a lot more of her yanking on his tits, but she let them go, tangling her fingers instead in his hair. Slightly curled from his earlier shower. Her nails scratched his scalp slightly and his roots protested at how tightly Joan balled his hair in her fists. But he wasn’t about to protest. Didn’t even have any time to do so. She was pulling him up to sit, kissing him hard.

Immediately Kennedy tries to set the pace of the kiss, like he’s so used to doing. But Joan tightens her grip in his hair. He whimpers at the sharp pain it causes, acute, harsh pain on his scalp that radiates across his skull. He opens his eyes to meet hers, just a few inches away, they’re full of venom. Displeased. _Behave_ they say. He will.

So her hands loosen again, not enough to get rid of the pain, but enough that it was manageable. Even titillating. Then she’s kissing him. Wow. Her lips move gently against his, a head-spinning contrast to the rough way she’s been treating him so far. Their lips barely graze at first, and it just makes him want more. His skin is hypersensitive. He can feel her every breath against his mouth, the small bits of contact he does get has his hands twisting in the sheets. He whimpers again.

As if responding to him, she finally opens her mouth, licking across his bottom lip. Instantly his mouth drops open, granting her access. She is _so good at this._ Her tongue lathes over his teeth, she takes his tongue into her mouth and sucks on it gently. Their lips are quickly soaked in saliva. Sliding against each other as Joan nips his lips, sharp and sexy and _perfect._ Kennedy is sweating hard. His threadbare shirt turning dark. He can hear his heart pounding in his ears and Joan just keeps kissing him dizzy.

She pulls away, and Kennedy briefly chases after her. Forgetting himself. Forgetting everything that wasn’t the hot cavern of her mouth. Joan’s hands abandon his hair. One clutches Kennedy’s chin, keeping him in place. The other squeezes his throat, causing throbbing pressure in his head. It pulls him closer by forcing him to arc his back at an awkward angle. Because of that, his thighs spread out against her hips. Something presses into his thigh. Oh god, that’s her dick. Silicone against his thigh. If he wasn’t sweating before he certainly was now.

“You’re going to let me fuck you.” Joan said. “Because you like this.”

“I do.” He panted. “And I er, will. Let you. Fuck me.”

She gave him an indulgent smile, sugary and dangerous. Like a poisonous berry. “Good. Good boy.”

Well, _that_ did something to him. It’s a night of discoveries it seemed. Kennedy would have to have a good long think about his conception of his own sexuality after this. But that was for later. For now all he could think about was that damn dick pressing against his thigh. That dick and how much he wanted to _take it._

Joan let him go, throwing him down against the bed, where he bounced once before coming to a rest. The impact knocked the air out of his lungs in a big, harsh wheeze. Giving him no time to recover, Joan grabbed him by the hips and flipped him over onto his stomach. He laid right where she left him, moaning and panting and acting like a dick-hungry whore. Joan leaned over, grabbed his lubricant, and placed it on the flat surface of his bedpost. Right in reach for later. He felt a thrill at the very thought.

She made quick work of pulling down his boxers. He melted into a silly grin hearing the appreciative whistle she made. Grabbing handfuls of his ass and jiggling it. “Jesus, Kennedy. Your ass is a real impressive asset. I can’t wait to ruin it.”

His nervous giggle turned into a small scream when she smacked his ass _hard._ The _crack_ of the impact was jarring and unexpectedly loud. Joan watched in amazement as a red mark appeared on the cheek, which bounced under her force. Yeah. She was doing _that_ again.

JFK buried his face into a pillow, trying to silence his moans as Joan whipped his ass red. Her nails raking down his back when she took a break to admire the red marks she was making. Contemplating whether or not it needed more. Her palms throbbed and tingled with the strikes, and she can’t imagine how it must have felt for Kennedy’s soft ass. But Kennedy was hard and dripping, betraying his enjoyment.

Again she grabbed his ass, kneading it the same way she had his pecs earlier. “Sexy.” She drawled.

Kennedy silently preened for the praise, pushing his ass up further into her hands in offering. She laughed softly. “Needy whore, too.” Joan observed. “Need anything, needy whore?”

Kennedy groaned, trying to get his thoughts in order so he could make a coherent sentence. “You uh, gonna ever er fuck my ass?”

“Oh, of course.” She purred. Kennedy nearly cried when he heard the familiar _snick_ of the opening lube cap. Joan drizzled her fingers generously, then poured some over Kennedy’s ass just to watch it glisten. It fell down the contour of his crack and dipped against his hole before dripping onto his balls. He was completely hairless here, so he probably shaved for her. Joan loved the idea of Kennedy primping and shaving in preparation for her arrival. He was too gorgeous. Too pretty for his own good. He was about to get his ass wrecked.

His entire body tensed the moment she pressed her fingers against the furled entrance. She stroked her free hand down his back, right along the tracks where her nails had been digging in just ten minutes ago. “Shhh. Relax. I can’t do it if you don’t relax.”

To Kennedy’s credit, he followed instructions very well. So obedient and soft. It was almost incomprehensible with his typical loud, obnoxious behavior. He relaxed as soon as she said to. Letting his shoulders roll and his spine sag and tension to bleed out of every muscle in his body. She kissed his spine in reward and let her fingers slide in.

He tensed up nearly immediately after, but she couldn’t blame him. It was a foreign intrusion. She doubted that he’d done this before, either. He just had to get used to her. She petted his hair and made soothing sounds while he forced himself to relax again. She pushed her fingers back and forth, stroking along the smooth muscle inside of him, searching for the soft spot she knew was there. “You’re doing so well.” She encouraged. “Good boy, so good for me.”

Kennedy suddenly gasped, gathering breath for a noise that ultimately ended with a choking sound. Jackpot.

“That feel good, baby?”

“Ooooh, yes. Don’t stop touching er, whatever that is!”

She didn’t plan on it. Pressing gently against Kennedy’s prostate. Joan watched with great satisfaction while Kennedy rode her hand, panting and relaxing and making obscene noises. She could see why everyone wanted to have sex with him so bad. Kennedy was stirring desires in Joan she hadn’t even known she had. Desires to dominate and control.

Kennedy moaned deep in his chest. “Oh, Joan. Joan! Please let me er, uh…”

Joan pulled her fingers away, nearly delighting in the desperate noise Kennedy made. “Nuh-uh. You aren’t finishing before the best part.” She tapped the inside of his thigh with the silicone that hung between her legs. “Remember?”

“Yes.” He groaned. “And I want it so bad!”

“You can have it.” Joan assured him. “I’m going to give it to you right now.”

She picked up the lube again, slathering the length of her dick with it. Her teeth worried her lip, which had lost whatever lipstick she applied a long time ago. Was that going to be enough? As much as she enjoyed being rough with him, she didn’t want to damage Kennedy. She dribbled a little more lube on his hole and vowed that if he flinched even once she was drawing out immediately.

“Ready?” She asked to make sure.

“Please, Joanie.” He begged. Well, how could she refuse?

She took her dick in hand, pressing against him. Kennedy twisted his neck to look behind him, and his face was looking especially pretty in the dim lamplight. Joan appreciated his wide eyes and long lashes while she pushed her way in.

His lashes fluttered and eyes rolled back as she moved her hips. At first there was resistance, the tight ring of muscle at the entrance protested against intrusion. But with the right angle and the help of the lubricant, Joan breached it. After the resistance at the beginning, it was a smooth glide all the way in. Kennedy expected it to be like pushing into a woman, equal pressure throughout. But that wasn’t the way it was fucking a man. After getting past his entrance she pushed in so fast that her hips came to smack against the raw surface that Joan had bruised earlier with her spanking.

Kennedy gasped, shocked at the sensation of being so full so suddenly. Joan pet down his flank, shushing him like a skittish animal. He squirmed on the bed, trying to get used to the strange pressure he now felt. It was entirely foreign. His body tensed automatically, feeling that something had changed and not being quite sure what to do about it. He took several deep breaths, trying to relax as he’d done before. It took several moments, but Joan was patient. Gradually the pressure changed from uncomfortable to urgent. The kind of pressure that required friction to be satisfied.

“Joan, please. Uh, you can move now.”

She didn’t give him any verbal response. Only a little kiss on the back of his neck. Then she grabbed onto his arms, just above his elbows, and began using them as leverage to begin fucking him.

Again Kennedy gasped, once again surprised by the new stimulus. She was so big, dragging against his gut _hard_ with every movement. He had realized that he was full, but not _how full._ It felt like she was pushing against his lungs. Pushing every breath out in a pant. Noises spilled out of him uncontrollably. Choked moans and small yells. Every thrust had her hips striking against his ass, sending waves of pain up his body. He felt like his soul was being pounded out of his body, and she was fucking him so hard. It was ecstasy. He couldn’t ever remember feeling so good. But he couldn’t think about much of anything while she was nailing him so hard.

Then she hit that thing she’d been fingering earlier, that spot that made him feel like he had to pee and cum and fucking explode. Kennedy devolved into desperate babbling, letting his head fall onto the bed while he moaned and screamed. Joan was pulling his body back with every thrust, manhandling his body like he was a little doll. How the hell was she so strong? God, it was the sexiest thing Kennedy had ever experienced.

Heat spread throughout his body, sweat tickled as it ran in little tracks between his ribs. Pressure was building in his dick. “Joan, god! Er, er, uh~ I’m gonna- fuck.”

Now she came to a halt, and Kennedy honestly considered dying in that moment. All the momentum leading to what he knew would have been the best orgasm of his life came to a grinding halt and Kennedy couldn’t even stop the little sob that tore itself from his chest. But he didn’t have much time to cry. She was pulling out of him. Manhandling him again. Sitting down on the bed where he had been earlier and pulling Kennedy into her lap. Now they were chest to chest, Joan holding Kennedy over her cock and looking him dead in the eyes. Her hair was a mess and her eyes feral. “You have to work for it.” She growled. “Come on, you know how this goes, manwhore. Take me for a ride.”

Kennedy’s whole body shook. He felt raw and vulnerable. His eyes were blown wide, his face entirely red, looking down at composed, horny Joan. Her sexuality was domineering and all consuming. He was just another log to fuel her fire. She made him feel small and girlish, and she was the most powerful man in the world. Everything Kennedy had previously known about sex was turned on its head. There was only Joan and her huge fucking cock.

So he was ramming himself down on her aforementioned huge fucking cock. No breaks in between. Joan dug her nails into Kennedy’s muscular thighs and watched him ride her dick like his life depended on it. Joan bit his neck and collarbone as he worked himself on her lap. Leaving blossoming purple marks that would stay for at least a week. She worried the sensitive skin between her teeth, bruising it further. Kennedy groaned in her ear, a sound that made her soak her panties in seconds.

“You like this.” She whispered.

Kennedy groaned again, nodding his head in agreement. Joan was grinning like she’d just won a well-deserved prize. Snaking an arm around his waist, she pulled him in so that her breasts pressed right against his. “No other girl could do this to you.” She hissed. “This is a kind of pleasure you could only get from _me._ I’m not one of those other hussies. The ones you fuck and discard like the condoms.”

“You never were.” He said. Her eyes flashed. She looked surprised for a moment, then she smiled.

“Prove it, baby.” She purred.

Kennedy let his head loll back. He was trying, but his thighs were burning. He was by no means a weakling, working out regularly usually gave him the stamina to fuck girls all night long. But Joan seemed to have a particular talent for wearing him out. Joan seemed to take pity on him though, using the arm she’d wrapped around him to hold him in place. Bucking her hips up off the bed and fucking him hard enough to jostle his entire body. If not for her grip keeping him in place he may have fallen off the bed.

He gasped, rolling his spine as he processed what was happening to him. It was different than every other sexual experience he’d had before. His pleasure kept building, far beyond what it usually took to make him cum. It was bordering on painful, the intense stimulation that blurred the edges of his vision. His sex felt swollen and over-worked, even though he’d hardly touched it since they started. His muscles were jerking uncontrollably. His thighs and calves clenching and twitching. It built to a peak so high that Kennedy’s every muscle was strung tight in anticipation. Then it all let go at once, falling off the endless peak into the hardest orgasm of his life.

Blood rushed through his body so fast it felt like a hot flash. Waves of it could be felt everywhere, not just in his dick, which jerked and oozed all over Joan’s stomach. Kennedy’s voice cracked on a cry that never made it past his vocal cords. He felt so, _so_ good. Joan was holding him, and he felt safe. It lasted forever. Much longer than he was used to. Why had he never done this before? How would he ever go back to having sex the way he did before?

Joan took his dick in hand, stroking it while Kennedy rode out his high. He looked fantastic. Sated and stupid and totally beautiful. His swollen lips were wide open while he tried to catch his breath. She traced it with her other fingers while he trembled on her lap.

“I think I want to ride you, too.” She said.

“Oh, Joanie. I er, can’t recover quite that fast.” Kennedy said sheepishly. Ducking his head a little in his embarrassment. Cute.

“No, Kennedy. I would get on your face.”

His pupils blew wide at that, big puppy dog eyes that Joan couldn’t help but find endearing. “Oh, you like that, don’t you?”

“Mmmm.” He hummed.

Joan graced him with a kiss to the forehead before gently guiding him up, soothing him as her cock came free. He winced, but it didn’t seem to be pain as much as it was the strange feeling of being suddenly empty. As well as the lube that dribbled onto her lap. She didn’t mind too much. He did a fantastic job taking dick, for a first timer. He shifted off her lap and allowed her to get up.

Finally, Joan loosened the straps and let the harness fall down her legs. She breathed a small sigh of relief pulling her panties down, allowing her vagina to finally _breathe._ It had been too wet, trapped in her underwear. Kennedy watched her with fond eyes, and Joan returned his goofy smile.

“You ready?” She asked, crawling up the bed to hover over his face.

“Always have been.” He answered.

Joan allowed herself to enjoy his smile for a moment more before adjusting his knees on either side of his head and allowing herself to sink down onto his waiting mouth. John put his hands on her thighs, groaning like he was having a religious experience. And Joan bit her lip hard enough to bruise.

Kennedy ate pussy with the finesse of a man who had slept with the majority of the women at school. He was excellent. Gentle but persistent, focusing on her most sensitive areas and using a variety of moves on her. Joan whimpered and ground down, temporarily forgetting about his need to breathe. But Kennedy didn’t even seem to mind. He kissed her gently, taking a deep breath through the mouth before continuing his single-minded pursuit of driving her absolutely crazy.

Joan’s legs quivered against Kennedy’s jaw. He gave her small, quick flicks with the tip of his tongue before pressing the flat of it against her and licking up the juices that spilled into his mouth. Another kiss and he went back to persistent pressure on her clit. He pulled her thighs further apart, granting him access to dip his tongue inside of her.

She was burning up inside. Tasted like everything Kennedy had come to expect of women. That hot wetness that was sour but heady. It had been surprising the first time, he expected women to be sweet. Like all the citrusy perfume and saccharine attitudes they put on around him. But their natural taste was better than some sugary expectation. It was an acquired taste that Kennedy cherished. Especially coming from Joan. It would have been wrong for her to taste like candy. He drank it like ambrosia. Wiggling his tongue inside her because God knows this was probably his only chance.

While he stroked her smooth inner walls with his tongue, his arm wrapped around her leg, positioning him perfectly to press his thumb against her clit.

That had her cumming down his face with a wonderful, full moan that made Kennedy’s gut twist. Cum dripped down the sides of his face where he’d failed to catch it, and when Joan lifted her lips away, his whole face was soaked. He blinked, wiping it away from his nose and sniffing a bit. “Didn’t think you were, er, a squirter. Came all over my handsome face.”

“I find your face much improved by the addition.” Joan said, no embarrassment in her posture.

“Agreed.” He sighed happily. “Let’s uh, do that again. But only if you er, want to.”

“Of course.” Joan said, settling in to cuddle. “Where else is my dick going to get the action?”

Kennedy grinned and laughed. For once the little voice in the back of his head telling him to conform sexually was quiet. He was happy. He’d had the best sex of his life tonight. And his bed was open to Joan and her huge cock any night she wanted.

**Author's Note:**

> WOW, okay. I don't know what I expected but that was a lot. The amount of times I said "what am I doing?" as I wrote. You will never know. God, what do you even do after all that? I don't know. Comment, kudos, tell me what you thought! God knows I don't know what to think


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